She uttered a shrill scream of despair.
"John—John—I——"
Only a dead silence answered her frenzied, pitiful call. John was no longer there to hear her. He was gone from her—forever. She would never look on his face again. She could not blame him. She alone was at fault. But what a blow! Her dream of a life of happiness with the man she loved, her dream of self-redemption and regeneration, all that was blasted at one stroke! And now Will Brockton was gone also. She had lost them both. Abandoned and despised by the man she loved and also by the man to whom she owed everything, her future life was a blank. She must begin her career all over again. She had sunk to what she was before. For several minutes she crouched motionless on the trunk, her entire body shaken by convulsive sobbing. Then suddenly she sat up and looked wildly around her. Rising in a dazed fashion from the trunk, she staggered a few steps across the room. All at once her eyes caught the gleam of the pistol lying on the floor. With a loud cry of mingled despair and anger, she picked the weapon up, and, crossing to the bureau, threw it in a drawer. Then, with a sigh of intense relief, she called out loudly:
SHE CROUCHED DOWN MOTIONLESS ON THE TRUNK.
Page 344.
"Annie! Annie!"
The negress put her head through the portières, her eyes as big as saucers. She had heard the loud talking, but had been afraid to come near the room. Looking at her mistress with blank astonishment, she exclaimed:
"Ain't yuh goin' away, Miss Laura?"
By a supreme effort, Laura pulled herself together. She was a fool to show such weakness. Why should she allow these men to interfere with her and dictate to her? Defiantly she cried: